


how soon is now?

by buzzcutliam



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, POV Multiple, i don't know how to tag this there's too much going onnnn, it's a skins au, there's a happy ending for ziam, they're troubled teens looking for truth and meaning and love and that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1301338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buzzcutliam/pseuds/buzzcutliam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an au where everyone's a little fucked but trying to figure out who they are and what life is and what it's supposed to be.<br/>or, where it's niall's birthday but everything's going wrong (but also kinda goes right).<br/>(there's teenage angst, glow in the dark stars, and wildflowers that are really metaphors).</p>
            </blockquote>





	how soon is now?

**Author's Note:**

> i'm very excited about this bc i've been putting it off for like ages but i think it's in a good place now!  
> tell me what you guys think! i love hearing feedback even if it's a small comment!  
> i'm p. shit at writing summaries though so sorry about that.  
> title from: how soon is now? by the smiths  
> i don't own one direction  
> enjoy! xx

zayn hated all mornings as a rule. but it was hard not to put this morning in the top ten when some asshole (louis) was piling his filthy unwashed clothes on zayn’s head.

“morning, wanker!” louis announced, cheery, like it wasn’t some ungodly hour of the afternoon; like he didn’t know how much zayn cherished sleeping in.

“fuck off,” zayn whined, his voice muffled by the heap of laundry resting on his head.

“it’s four in the afternoon, zayn. i respect your devotion to sleep, but honestly, this is ridiculous.”

when zayn didn’t answer, refused to answer (it’s the principle of the thing), louis threw himself on zayn for good measure.

zayn yelped, jumping up and throwing louis off of him. he pushed the rest of the laundry off of himself, pulling off a pair of boxers that were caught on his earlobe.

“you’re disgusting,” zayn deadpanned, crawling under the covers again.

“aw thanks babycakes,” louis cooed, sliding over the covers so he was lying next to zayn.

zayn would do this: sleep over at louis’ whenever louis’ mum was away on work (being an airhostess doesn’t give you much time to spend with your family), because louis didn’t like sleeping in an empty house.

they stayed side by side for a bit. louis breathing in when zayn slowly exhaled. they fit like that, like waves. pushing and pulling in what shouldn’t be sync but was. where zayn was sharp edges and silence, louis was soft embraces and noise. but that made sense with them.

the hum of the air conditioning was lulling zayn into a lazy day dream when louis reached over, gently pulling the blanket from zayn’s head again. his voice was soft, “it’s niall’s birthday tonight.”

zayn held his breath and pressed his eyes closed. he knew it was niall’s birthday tonight. and as much as he loved the blond bugger, he did, he wished it could have been any day but. he’d been dreading today for weeks. still, he let out a strangled, “yeah.”

“you scared?” louis asked, his voice considerably less soft, a challenge playing in the lilt.

“what would i be scared of?” zayn tried pushing the comment off, hoped louis would take the hint.

“seeing liam,” louis sang. he was shit at taking hints.

“me and liam are fine.” zayn said, his voice tight.

“as if you’d know how liam was,” louis said.

zayn felt his chest heavy. this was the last thing he wanted to think about, this was the one thing he had been trying to distract himself from. and even when he knew he shouldn’t bite the bait louis was dangling in front of him, he couldn’t help it. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped.

“not like you’ve been avoiding him or anything.” fuck louis.

“’m not avoiding him,” zayn said, trying to keep his voice even.

“you missed class all last week.” why was louis his best mate? best mates don’t make best mates talk about boys they fucked up with.

“i was sick,” zayn said, stubborn.

louis snorted, “love sick, maybe.”

he was not talking about this right now. not when he was engulfed in the thought that he’d be seeing liam for the first time in three weeks tonight. his fingers were itching for a cigarette and his lungs for something to distract him from the sudden lack of oxygen in the room.

zayn got up, letting out a frustrated groan. “i’m going for a smoke.” he pulled up his sweatpants and fixed the ‘green lantern’ shirt that was hiking up in the front.

louis let him crawl over him and walk out the door but not without an obnoxious, “you can’t run from fate.”

zayn rolled his eyes. ‘typical’, he thought flinging one of louis’ boxers on his head. zayn snickered when louis let out an indignant sound of surprise.

it wasn’t that zayn didn’t want to see liam. the past three weeks had zayn feeling empty. cold like liam was a source of warmth that zayn didn’t know he needed till he was gone. and liam had reached out to zayn, had texted him, called him, showed up to see him, even. but zayn couldn’t. zayn couldn’t look liam in his giant chestnut eyes and have the stupidly beautiful boy scrunch up his forehead with worry lines and tell him that he loved zayn but he didn’t love zayn. zayn couldn’t look at liam’s pouting cherry red lips without remembering what they had tasted like (chocolate and mint and release), what they had felt like traveling down his body, pressing kisses between his thighs.

zayn’s throat constricted as flashbacks from that night flooded his mind. he shivered at the memory; a hand going up to his neck where he could almost feel phantom lips sucking on his collarbone. he sat down on the ground, back against the brick walls of louis’ house, and took out his pack of marlboros. he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, his hands shaking.

zayn inhaled. smoke hit the back of his throat like claws searing scratch marks on the tissue. he held his breath, submerged in the heavy taste of tobacco and spice and exhaled, breathing a bit more easier than he had before.

it was always liam. ever since they were in primary. on that first day when liam was all shy smiles and stuttering introductions. when he had pointed at zayn’s toy story shirt and pulled up his buzz lightyear socks to show they matched. it was liam who held his hand when zayn was shivering, trying not to let the words spat at him (”paki”) burn into his skin. it was liam who zayn went to, shaking with tears, as bruises bloomed on his face the first time he stood up against them. it was liam with his sunshine smiles and golden heart who pulled zayn up off the ground and pushed him to be better but also held him when he wasn’t, couldn’t be. it was liam who looked at zayn like he could be more than the scummy suburban burnout everyone saw him as.

and it was liam who kissed him back and whispered, “perfect, perfect” along zayn’s hips and pressed against zayn’s lips like he didn’t deserve him. but it was also liam who was drinking that night and liam who said “i’m sorry” when he collapsed next to zayn, like their fumbling hands and urgent lips had been a kind of fever dream he wouldn’t (or wouldn’t want to) remember having. so, it was liam who woke up alone that morning. and it was going to be liam who would want let zayn down easy.

but zayn would rather hear nothing from liam, than an apologetic “i can’t do this”.

zayn was three cigarettes down when louis sidled up next to him, sitting cross legged on the pavement. he nuzzled his head in zayn’s shoulder like it was an apology.

“don’t be sad,” louis murmured.

“’m not.” and he wasn’t. apprehensive, anxious, was the better word.

louis sighed but conceded with an, “okay.”

zayn reached over to run a hand through the other’s boy’s hair. “how’s haz?”

louis stilled next to him. zayn didn’t have many details about what happened between the two but he could make out bits of “not ready” and “mean the most, i promise but” when they were on the phone last night.

“fine,” louis said through gritted teeth. “don’t know, really,” and then softer, “don’t care.”

it was lie. zayn had known louis long enough to know that if louis had cared about anything it was harry and his mess of curls and infuriatingly slow drawl. but zayn had also known louis long enough to know that louis wouldn’t admit to caring about anyone, not if he thought he would end up getting hurt.

“you care,” zayn insisted. maybe it was cruel bringing it up but apparently best mates make best mates talk about boys they’ve fucked up with so.

louis was silent, letting out huffs of annoyance as he tried to think of what to say. “harry,” he started. “harry doesn’t think i love him enough because i won’t go public.” he spat the last words out with a wrinkled nose, lips curled in hurt.

“yeah?” zayn said.

“like what does that even mean? what’s public? just because i won’t snog him in school doesn’t mean anything. you know what the footie guys are like, zee. they can’t know that i’m—that we’re,” louis trailed off, frustrated. “he knows what the footie guys are like. i’m just not ready.”

“he’s fed up?”

“yeah. said he doesn’t want to be my ‘dirty little secret’. what an absolute twat! like i’d ever tell him i,” louis’ breath hitched. “i love him, zayn.” he all but breathed out, like he was scared the wind would take his words away.

“i know you do, lou,” zayn whispered, rubbing circles on his knee.

“he’s the only person i’ve ever loved, like. i genuinely think he might be it and then he says—” louis’ voice broke off, impossibly tiny. “i love him.”

“i know,” zayn put out the cigarette in his hands—burned, now, to the filter—and took louis’ hand in his. “and he knows. he’s just being a miserable twat, yeah?”

“yeah,” louis said and it didn’t sound like he believed it then but it sounded like he could. “yeah.”

zayn twined their fingers together and they sat side by side, knees knocking, staring into the failed garden louis’ mum had tried to put up. thistles over took the place where bright blue morning glorys should have grown; dandelions littered what was supposed to be the rose garden. zayn never understood why people hated wildflowers and weeds so much, they were unkempt, sure, but beautiful in their own way; just trying to get by and thrive like anything else. surviving wasn’t a crime.

louis’ phone buzzed between them and he fished it out. his lips, first pulled into a frown, split into a grin.

he put the speaker to his ears, eyes bright.

“nialler! you old tosser, talk to me.”

—————

niall had three boxes of fairy lights, a birthday banner, and two packs of glow in the dark stars sitting on the table in front of him when he realized that no one was going to be coming over tonight to look at his half assed attempt at decorating.

“shit,” niall said, his slight lisp prominent as he fumbled for his phone.

“what’s up?” he heard liam call from the kitchen. “you alright?” he came out of the opening, running a hand over his newly buzzed hair.

“yeah, no just gotta confirm who’s bringing the drugs and that,” niall said off handedly, pressing the phone to his ear.

louis picked up after a few rings. “nialler! you old tosser, talk to me.”

niall laughed, his cheeks tinted rosy. a lot of things made niall crack up but louis was the only person who could make him erupt into a fit of laughter without trying at all. “lou! just wanted to make sure you were bringing the spliff.”

he heard louis talking to someone—zayn, probably—and then, “yeah we’ve got it covered, ni. zaynie, here, can—” he heard someone being shoved, “ow, you wanker, i was trying to be affectionate!” louis yelled, dramatic as always. niall laughed harder, his nerves about the party momentarily forgotten. “anyway, as i was trying to say before zayn decided to be a dick,” louis shouted more to zayn than to niall. “zayn says he can spring for something, you know, stronger. if you’d like.”

niall bit his lips, debating. “what d’you mean?” he said, fiddling with untangling the string of fairy lights with one hand.

“he can get you some e if you want it,” louis said.

“e? like ecstasy? not that bad, right?” niall chewed on his bottom lip as liam emerged from the kitchen fully, eyebrows lifted.

“just some good old fashioned happiness in a pill. should be fun, sounds like,” louis said.

what the hell, niall thought. it was his eighteenth birthday. go big or go home, right? “yeah alright, should be fun,” niall agreed, his grin getting wide.

“great, babe, we should get going. but we’ll be over at eight, yeah?” louis said.

“yeah, lou, thanks a lot.”

“hush niall, this is only a right of passage,” louis laughed. “we’re gonna get you plastered like you’ve never been before.”

niall laughed, endeared by his friends. they were his lifeline, really. “that’s why i love you, lou,” he joked. it was said like banter, but it wasn’t—lou meant so much to him that he couldn’t even begin to put it into words.

“hey, happy birthday.” louis said softly.

“yeah, yeah,” he said, laughing it off lightly. “see you soon.”

he clicked off the mobile and sighed, air rushing out of him. he was unnecessarily stressed about this party. to him, he guessed, it kind of felt like the end he didn’t want coming. he had spent this entire year trying to ignore the fact that fall was coming fast. fall was coming and taking away the only four people who gave a shit about niall. hell, even his own parents didn’t call him to say “happy birthday” this morning, his parents didn’t even stick around to spend it with him (but, they always called him the best anniversary present they could have gotten—or they used to, anyway). and niall wanted his friends to have amazing lives and adventures in big cities like they’d always planned. niall wanted liam to become some teen pop heartthrob, wanted harry to send him shitty pictures of trees so niall could pretend to understand the deep symbolism behind it, wanted zayn to become a big published poet, wanted louis to get into the big league football teams. niall probably had bigger aspirations for his four friends than they had for themselves but he had no aspirations for himself.

and that’s why, in the fall, when everyone else would be going to university and getting a higher education, niall would be back in bradford, tending bar and getting high. he liked small town life, but he was worried that maybe what he liked about small town life was going to be leaving him come september.

“niall? niall?” liam had gotten up from reclining on the sofa and walked over to the blond boy, waving his hands in front of his face. “you okay?”

niall snapped out of his trance, fairy lights untangled in his hands. “yeah, li, sorry just got distracted there,” he said, shaking his head.

liam smiled gently, taking the lights out of his hand. “i’ll put ‘em up yeah?”

niall nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. not tonight. no, tonight, everyone was going to get spectacularly wasted. one last night with the lads. and maybe if it was good enough, they’d stick around longer for more nights like this one. maybe.

“d’you think we have enough food, li?” niall asked, moving to untangle the next set of lights.

“enough to feed a small country, ni,” liam laughed. “it’s weird to see you stressing out like this, you’re never nervous.”

niall turned away from the boy, smiling tight. “just wanna make sure that everyone’ll have a good time is all.”

“everyone loves you, you donut,” liam said fondly. “it’ll be a laugh, yeah?”

“yeah,” niall’s stiff smile relaxed a bit.

“wanna put these up in my dorm, i reckon,” liam said as he hooked the lights to the wall with push pins. “they’re pretty aren’t they?”

niall’s nerves clenched inside him but he pushed out a smile. “yeah, li, they’d look great.” he couldn’t help if he sounded a little sad, but liam picked up his tone.

“niall,” he started.

“no, liam. it’s okay.” niall smiled wider. he remembered harry talking about how smiling can convince your body you’re happy even when you weren’t. “i’m okay! tonight’s gonna be smashing, yeah? nothing like them posh university dinners you lot’ll end up going to,” he teased.

“it’ll ruin all parties for us, yeah,” liam answered laughing.

“yeah.” niall sure as fuck hoped so.

—————

“get closer,” harry’s eyebrows were knit together tightly as he tried to focus the camera in on the shot. “no like you actually want to kiss her, nick.” he never got exasperated. but it was three hours into what felt like an endless shoot, he was starting to hate his script, and louis wasn’t picking up any of his calls, the stubborn arse.

he watched nick crowd emma against the door, arms wrapping around her body but not around her. he caged her in, like he was scared to touch her as his pursed lips gave away the grimace he was trying to hide. for fucks sake—

“no, no just,” harry sighed, deflated. “let’s just call it a day, i don’t think we’re gonna get anywhere tonight.” he turned the camera off as nick and emma stopped making out.

they were the best actors he could find in such short notice but they were shit at being in love (and, harry scoffed, thinking, maybe so was he). he started packing up his equipment carefully and half heartedly waved by to em as she left. he’d be seeing her tonight at niall’s anyway.

“you seem stressed,” nick was sitting on the bed, legs kicking out in front of him as if he were a toddler not a grown man.

harry rolled his eyes. “’m not,”

“yeah okay, haz,” nick said, clearly not buying it.

“yeah maybe a bit, fine.” because, really, where did harry get off being an insufferable twat anyway?

“marital issues?” nick’s eyes were gleaming; a smile played on his lips. he never liked louis but he liked harry enough to understand that louis made him happy.

or used to anyway. harry understood that louis was scared of coming out to everyone, that he didn’t want to be othered by his teammates or his coach or whatever. but, surely, harry thought, that he mattered too. that every time louis would catch catch his eye in the halls but pretend not to, he’d feel stung; like he wasn’t good enough for his boyfriend, like what they were didn't mean much to louis. like this was a fling that he’d end up forgetting come the fall.

and maybe harry was being selfish but so was louis, yeah? ever since the boys on the footie team started teasing him about “the boy with the curls” who always hung around during practice, louis shut him out completely. and harry understood the whole self preservation thing, he really did, he just wished that maybe he would be enough for it not to matter to louis. that harry would mean more than some words thrown around in the locker rooms. that louis wouldn’t treat him like he was nobody because he sure as hell felt like nobody.

“you’re thinking yourself in circles, haz.” nick said, snapping harry out of his trance.

harry shook his head, coming back into his bedroom.

“yeah. i mean yeah, marital problems, whatever,” he put the camera under his desk.

“wanna talk about it?” nick patted the space in the bed next to him.

“not really,” harry said, sitting down.

“is he a wanker like i said he’d be?” nick mused.

“nick,” harry warned.

nick turned to face harry, his eyes ablaze with a determined fury he wasn’t used to seeing. “no you deserve better, you know that, yeah?” nick said, his voice turning serious for a change.

“i deserve him.” harry said, running a hand through his hair; unsure of his answer.

“can’t even say hi to you in the hallway. i haven’t ever seen you this miserable, haz,” nick said. “you deserve better,” he insisted.

harry’s body temperature rose. it wasn’t fair. fuck, it wasn’t fair for harry to lay down his heart on a silver fucking platter and for louis pick and choose the pieces he wanted when he wanted but leave harry bleeding himself dry otherwise. and maybe it would be okay if he bothered to answer his phone or text him back for fucks sake, harry wasn’t asking for some huge declaration of love. harry needed his best friend—his boyfriend—and he wasn’t there. or didn’t want to be. and harry had waited for so long to get louis to give him a chance in the first place; tried so hard to be good enough for him and now—

“maybe,” harry said, sprawling on the bed beside nick.

“maybe you shouldn’t have to wait on someone who doesn’t give two shits about you,” nick said sliding down beside him.

harry winced, the words stinging him. “maybe,” he said again, turning to face nick.

nick’s eyes were glinting with mischief. his smirk was tilted, predatory but playful, as he licked his lips.

“maybe,” nick continued, his eyes flicking down to harry’s lips. “you should say ‘fuck you’, yeah?”

harry sucked in his bottom lip. nick was impossibly close, playing with the hem of his shirt. his breath ghosted on harry’s neck and harry subconsciously leaned into his warmth. “maybe,” he all but mouthed.

“maybe,” he whispered. “you should fuck me.”

and nick’s lips were ghosting over his now and this was closer than louis had been with harry in days.

“maybe,” harry whispered, weakly, mesmerized by the heat of the breath that was hitting his skin; he unconsciously inched forward.

“maybe.” and harry pulled nick in, moving his lips slowly over his. one hand fisted in his hair and the other in his shirt as he pulled nick on top of him, wrapping his legs around the other boy’s midsection.

harry licked into nick’s mouth in desperation, coaxing the other boy’s mouth open. his hips bucked up against nick’s as he responded with the same urgency. his hands tangled in harry’s curls, pulling fistfuls as harry moaned, wanton and needy, into the other boy’s mouth.

“off, off,” harry said, pulling away, tugging at nick’s shirt. and pulled his own off in the same breath.

and then they were back on each other, harry’s hands stroking nick’s chest as he tried to avoid the pang of guilt building up inside of him. nick broke apart, looking into harry’s eyes, his own half lidded and dark with lust, and grinded down on him, smirking when harry let out an obscene moan at the sensation.

and they became a symphony of whimpers and groans as they shed the rest of their clothes and the sun set behind harry’s curtained windows. harry closed his eyes as nick thrust into him, later, whimpering into the other boy’s collarbone a steady chant of, “yeah, fuck, there,” in time with the snap of the other boy’s hips. he came with a cry, biting down lightly on nick’s shoulder, louis’ name tumbling out of his mouth helplessly as he shook with both release and guilt.

“louis, louis, louis.”

—————

by the time zayn had showered and pulled on one of louis’ t shirts and his pair of black skinny jeans, it was close to eight. he might have spent extra time fixing his hair or deliberating in the shower, but he was able to breathe without feeling like he was drowning and that was something at least. he had gone out for two more cigarette breaks in between waiting for his hair to dry and louis’ screamo cover of ‘all that jazz’ as he took a shower.

it would be okay. better than. zayn said, trying to convince himself. thinking made it so and that.

by the time louis was skipping out of the house, zayn’s cigarette had burned down to filter.

“you ready?” louis said, arms wide, twirling.

“no,” zayn flicked the end of his cigarette on the porch steps and crushed it with his foot.

“fantastic,” louis sang, climbing into his car, revving his engine obnoxiously because he was an obnoxious wanker.

“yeah, alright. we gotta swing by my house yeah?” zayn got in the passenger seat and turned on the radio to some classical station.

“right, yeah,” and louis drove.

they were silent, their kind of friendship didn’t really need words to validate it, but zayn could still understand the hum of anxiety that was pushing under the silence.

“you’ll talk to haz, yeah?” he said.

“yeah,” louis’ face was creased with worry. “i think,” he started. “i think he deserves this much, at least.”

“what d’you mean?” zayn asked.

“i think,” louis said. “i think i’ll suck it up and come out and fuck the footie wankers who say anything because,” his face softened. “because i love haz, yeah? and he deserves this. i just, i dunno, i just want him to be happy and he makes me happy and does it really matter what anyone else thinks?”

“lou,” zayn said, smiling, if ‘all that jazz’ led louis to epiphanies like this, than maybe zayn would take up the whole singing thing too.

“right?” louis’ smile turned blinding as he focused on the road. “i mean, fuck it, school’s ending in two months. ending for forever. and i’m not gonna see any of those arseholes after this. they can suck my dick,” louis said, screaming the last bit out the open window.

zayn laughed, “don’t think they’d really fancy doing that, lou.” he said nudging louis’ shoulder.

“they should try it sometime, then.” louis turned to zayn briefly, his face lit like he hadn’t seen it in weeks. “’s quite phenomenal, yeah?”

zayn snorted, “yeah.”

they pulled up into zayn’s driveway. his house wasn’t much, really. it was a small two story brick house littered with vines crawling up the sides. his parents weren’t rich but had enough to get by comfortably. it was homey. the very definition of it. warmth flooded the home through the couch cushions and lawn ornaments. the kind of place those ‘home and garden’ magazines spent millions recreating.

zayn bounded up the lawn, weaving across the trees on the lawn. he had the drugs for niall’s party in a shoebox under his bed. he used to sell properly a while back but never got into it enough to make it worth his while.

he walked up to the door, opening it with a click.

“mum,” he called out as he took the stairs two at a time. it was quiet for a saturday night but then again, his dad was on a business trip and his sisters had taken to spending their time at the mall. still he called out because he felt guilty about leaving as often as he did. he wasn’t a bad kid, not rebellious for a vicious reason. just, some people cope differently and zayn coped with vodka and weed and the feel of bass thumping in his veins and the press of bodies against his. it was what he couldn’t find at home that made him forget who he was and what he had to worry about. it was anarchy that homecooked meals couldn’t fill him with.

zayn sighed at the lack of response but continued, just in case.

“i’m going to niall’s. it’s his birthday, just gotta pick up my pres—,” zayn stopped short as he reached the top of the stairs.

his parent’s room was open and he could see two bodies scrambling. there were clothes littering the floor. and all zayn could think was: no, no, no.

“zayn!” his mother said almost hysterically. she rushed to the door in a bathrobe, arms clutched around her, hair strewn haphazardly, lipstick rubbed into her cheek. “you’re home!” she tried closing the door discreetly behind her, a desperate smile plastered on her face but—

“mum,” was all that zayn got out.

she frowned, all attempts of salvaging the situation gone. her eyes dropped to the floor in guilt. “zayn,” she started, helpless.

“mum, that’s not dad is it?” zayn knew it wasn’t but he needed to hear it from her. needed her to shatter his perceptions because he was starting to shake again and this time, if he was gonna fall into the abyss, it was going to be because someone pushed him.

“zayn,” she said again, hands crossed. her eyes were so tired.

“mum,” zayn said this time, sternly. wondered when the roles had reversed.

“it’s not him.” she avoided his eyes.

zayn swallowed the lump building in his throat and turned to go into his bedroom. he grabbed the shoebox from under his bed and walked down the stairs.

“don’t tell him,” his mother said, almost pleading as he walked out of the house without a sound her way and slammed the door as he left.

he took a moment outside, leaned back against the door trying desperately to breathe without hyperventilating. everything seemed so surreal; everything seemed so pointless.

he walked back to to louis’ car, only realizing that he was trembling when louis’ arms circled him with a, “zayn, what’s wrong?”

zayn took a breath, swallowed, and stilled.

“nothing. need to get to niall’s.” he tried to get out evenly.

when louis wouldn’t move, zayn let out a frustrated sigh. “now, louis. fucking drive,” he snapped.

louis drove.

—————

niall wasn’t expecting a huge crowd until at least nine thirty but people started pouring in at seven and the party was in full swing by eight. he was glad he arranged for the alcohol himself (glad, really, that his parents felt bad enough about leaving to go on an anniversary vacation and let him have whatever he wanted from the liquor cabinet) because louis and zayn weren’t there yet. the speakers were blasting some katy perry song about kissing girls and liking it and he could feel the bass reverberate in his veins as he made his way through his living room to find liam playing bartender in the kitchen.

fairy lights danced in his peripheries as he walked into the off white tiled floor. he wasn’t drunk, not yet, but his brain was swimming and he could feel the buzz making him feel insanely light. this rush was what he lived for, the reassurance he needed. this night didn’t have to end; nothing had to end.

“you know, you could actually drink the alcohol,” niall said, draping an arm around liam’s shoulder. “’s what it’s there for, leemo.” he pressed a sloppy kiss on liam’s cheek as the other boy laughed, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he ducked his head.

“not really feeling it tonight, nialler,” liam said, lifting his head up to meet niall’s eyes.

“well, suit yourself,” niall said, ruffling liam’s buzzcut. “i’m having some rum.”

liam, god bless him, took out a plastic cup and filled it up. niall took it with a cheeky smile.

“d’you know if zayn’s here, yet?” liam asked with a careful tone as he screwed on the top of the bottle.

niall, after taking a huge swig of his drink, scrunched up his face. “not yet, don’t know what’s taking them so bloody long.”

liam nodded, fixing the counter. “they’ll make it, ni. they always do.”

niall nodded just as the unmistakable sound of louis’ voice erupted from the door of the kicthen. “nialler!” he exclaimed bounding over to where niall was standing, jumping on him.

“lou!” niall said with as much enthusiasm. “look who finally decided to show up.” he cocked an eyebrow up at louis.

louis’ face faltered for just a fraction of a second before he turned around and dragged zayn forward. “have manners zayn, it’s only one of your best mates birthday, you dick.”

the fact that zayn was in bad shape was obvious as he let himself be taken by the shirtsleeves over to where niall was standing. his eyes had bags underneath them and his hair was a ruffled mess. he had sparse stubble spotting his face and it would usually work with the whole ‘bad boy’ look he had down but tonight, his face was pale and he looked lost, his eyes going in and out of focus like he wasn’t sure where he was.

“alright, niall,” he said, flashing him a weak smile, taking him in for a one armed hug. but zayn’s eyes were trained over niall’s head, and his body grew stiff as his eyebrows knit in worry or fear and he began backing up again.

“um,” zayn ran a hand through his hair, absentmindedly. “here’s the stuff, happy birthday.” he held out a clear plastic bag with shaking hands.

“cheers, mate,” niall said trying to keep the worry out of his voice. he looked at louis, but louis shrugged and shook his head. “won’t tell me anything,” he mouthed.

niall nodded. “you want a drink?” he cocked his head over to where the drinks were.

“nah,” zayn said, back up even further. “think i’m just gonna go out for a smoke,” he sounded breathless, overwhelmed. “i’ll be back, yeah?”

“sure, yeah, ‘course,” niall said, trying not to let zayn’s state worry him. if he needed niall, he would say. right?

but zayn seemed to have caught on to their furrowed glances and shook his head. “i’ll be fine, yeah? have fun, bro,” zayn said before turning away from them and disappearing into the crowd. niall watched him go, hand still holding the baggie zayn had thrust into his hands. there were a handful of pills crowding one corner of the bag. niall turned around and walked back to where the drinks were.

louis was talking to liam, when niall went to join them.

“you sure he’s alright?” niall asked, voice low.

“zayn’s always alright, isn’t he?” louis said.

niall hummed around the rim of his drink, looking at liam. his eyebrows creased in consideration. “d’you think it has to do with you?”

liam stiffened. “no,” he snapped defensively. then softer, “don’t know.” worry lines creased his forehead and his lips pulled into a pout.

“you should go talk to him,” louis said nudging liam with his shoulders.

“he made it pretty clear that he doesn’t really want to see me, lou,” liam said, frowning.

“yeah well it’s always been you, though hasn’t it? whenever zayn’s upset?” louis said, his eyes trained on liam. “doesn’t let any of us know. but he trusts you.”

“he needs you, li.” niall agreed.

liam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “i don’t want to make it worse.” he said, closing his eyes.

“at least try,” louis said.

“does he hate me?” liam asked. his voice wavered in a kind of uncertainty niall hadn’t seen in him in years.

“no,” louis said, almost scandalized. “no, he’s being a twat, yeah? scared you hate him.”

“i wouldn’t,” liam said, looking up for the first time. “ever.”

“we know,” louis said, exasperated. “he knows, too. just likes the misery or whatever.”

liam’s lips turned up to a small smile. “really?”

“yes, you wanker. now go find him.” niall laughed as louis pushed a blushing liam to the door.

when he walked away too, niall finally turned to louis and pulled him into a hug.

“missed you,” he said nuzzling against his chest.

“just saw you yesterday,” louis chuckled mussing niall’s hair.

“but still,” niall insisted.

“well i’m here now, aren’t i?” louis said fondly.

“yeah, you are,” niall laughed. “let’s get you a drink?” he waved his arms over the array of drinks on the counter.

louis frowned, “sorry ni, wanna stay sober tonight, yeah?”

what the hell was happening to niall’s friends? “louis tomlinson? not getting shit faced? what’s happening?” niall said incredulously.

louis laughed. “wanna talk to haz first,” he explained.

niall nodded. harry, right.

“is he here, yet?” louis asked, sucking in his bottom lip, swaying on his feet.

niall nodded. “yeah, i think i saw him in the back or something,” he said trying not to let the disappointment snaking, constricting his ribs show.

“cheers, ni!” louis said, a grin spreading across his face as he pulled niall into a quick hug. “gonna tell that bastard i love him,” he said, with a sloppy kiss pressed to niall’s forehead.

niall gave him a weak laugh as louis turned and made his way out back. he couldn’t help but feel cold, his heart beating erratically against his chest as if to remind niall that he was alive and real and there. because, right then, he didn’t feel real or really relevant, even. he pressed his eyes closed as he tried to focus his breathing into something controlled, as he tried to push away the feeling of dread and loneliness and fear that was crowding against him.

he had a house full of people, a kitchen full of booze, and a bag filled with drugs and he’d still rather be huddled around a campfire like he used to with the lads when they were younger. still. he had a house full of people, a kitchen full of boose, and a bag filled with drugs and didn’t zayn talk about ‘making your own happiness’ when he was going through that philosophical stage? so niall did.

niall opened the bag of pills. he pulled one out and examined it against the strobe lights hitting the walls. slowly, slowly, he put it on his tongue and swallowed with another swig of his drink and put the bag in his pocket. he waited for a bit, as if he was expecting happiness to wash over him like rain in the spring, before deciding, “fuck it,” and threw himself into the living room filled with bodies moving against each other.

he was pressed up in a sea of people swaying with each other. the strobe lights flashed against his eyes and his body felt detached from his brain. he was floating, he could swear it. and the stars he had liam stick on the ceiling were swirling together, swaying kinda. he was out of his body, out of his mind; he laughed, watching the bright reds and greens mix in with the softer blues and yellows. he scanned the crowd as he let his body go to the rhythm and caught the eye of a girl in his english class. cassie or katie or something like that. he moved closer, letting the bodies around him push him towards her and she pulled him in by his shirt.

they were facing each other, hips moving in sync as niall let his head dip into her neck and pressed kisses along her collarbone. he felt like he was made of the thick, heavy air—energy pounding against his veins—instead of drenched in sweat and pushed against a mess of limbs. he pulled cassie (katie) in closer, pressing their chests together as one of his legs slipped between hers. she brought her hands around niall’s neck and kissed him, hungry, as she grinded down on his thigh. the lights were rippling through the room and he could feel them dancing on his skin as they flashed past. he looked up at cassie (katie, whatever) grinning and fished out another pill from his pocket.

he put it on his tongue as cassie watched mesmerized and leaned in to another kiss (open-mouthed, filthy, debauched, this time). she licked the pill of off him and swallowed. she turned him around and they began to move against each other. niall leaned his head back and let the music pull him apart and infect his veins with a kind of happiness he hadn’t felt in years.

he found himself turning cassie around again and leaning in to say, “wanna get out of here?”

she nodded, and he took her by the hand through the bodies crashing against one another. up the stairs, past a couple making out intensely against the railing, past some burnout passed out on the floor, past a huddle of girls, to his bedroom.

it wasn’t much: a bed and a table. the moonlight casted shadows against his walls that were littered with posters but nothing stood out to say: this is NIALL’s. still, nothing mattered when niall felt euphoria engulfing every cell of his body.

he shut the door and crowded into cassie’s space as she moved in for a heated kiss. she licked into his mouth, moaning as his hands traveled up her sides. and soon, faster than niall could recall, they were a mess of strewn clothes and breathy moans as niall watched her work herself on top of him. in the darkness, the moonlight slitting through the window highlighted the curves of her body as she arched her back moving up and down on him slowly. her neck was tilted back, her collarbones jutting out obscenely as her eyes scrunched in concentration and her jaw grew slack. her hands clawed at niall’s shoulders where he was sure there would be crescents in the shape of her nails as she rode him faster. she shuddered with a moan, falling into niall as she clenched around him, coming as he did.

she leaned against niall’s body, both of them slicked with sweat, panting. he pressed a kiss to her forehead as the room twisted into view, his perceptions darker than they had been outside. he traced her spine as they both got their breathing back but before niall could pull her in for a kiss, she was getting up. she fished her clothes from the floor and started to dress.

niall chewed on the inside of his cheek, confused. he was scared to ask her anything but—

“you wanna stay?” he asked, his voice hopeful, as she slipped on her shirt. she looked up, pushing her blond bangs from her forehead.

“you’re joking,” she said. rolling her eyes as she turned away to slip on her shoes.

“not really.”

“’m not your girlfriend,” she scoffed, giving niall a final once over before walking out the door.

the words echoed around the room, matching the beat of the bass that reverberated through his bedroom walls, till they were all that he could hear. niall watched the crack of the door that wasn’t shut and reached down to pull up the blanket that had fallen to the floor. he spread it along himself, clutching the end underneath his neck like he had when he was five and afraid of ghosts. for a few moments, he felt nothing. and then, like waves crashing on land, the world seemed to crush niall. the darkness of the room flooded his senses.

his chest was heaving as emptiness crawled into every crevice inside of him until loneliness was the only thing he could feel; the only thing he could be sure of.

alone, fuck, he was alone. on his fucking birthday, he was fucking alone. he felt cold but he also felt like his heart had been sliced open and was filling him with blood. he shook; inadequacy quaking through his tears.

he brought a fist up to his mouth and bit down as his body wracked with sobs so as not to make any sound.

he could still feel the bass line coursing through him as he curled into himself and cried and cried and cried.

—————

harry found comfort in cliches sometimes. even though people would look at him and his scarves and ponytailed hair and roll their eyes like they knew what kind of cliche he was, he liked cliches sometimes. cliches like syrupy sweet rom-coms with the rebel and nerd; cliches like sitting on a swing set plucking flower petals like a lovesick teenager.

“he’ll love me,” harry plucked a petal. “he’ll love me not,” he plucked another.

his eyes were furrowed as he tried to pick apart what happened earlier that day; as he tried to piece together the moments that led up the kiss and why he ever thought it would be okay let it happen. his back was to the party but he could still hear the muted sound of the music, the sensation coming in like he was somewhere far away or underwater. everything around him felt numb after nick had left though. it was like he was disoriented, distanced. because louis was the one thing that mattered to him; he was the one person he could look at and think ‘forever’. but now all he could think was that he didn’t deserve louis’ forever, not after what happened.

“can’t believe niall still has this,” harry jumped at the sound. he turned around to see louis walking up behind him before settling for leaning against the side of the swing set. his hair was combed back into a quiff, his arms wrapped around himself in a tank top that showed off his “it is what is is” tattoo. his lips were pulled into a careful smile; there were apologies in it, there was hope, too, but harry could only feel the guilt building up inside of him.

harry’s breath hitched, “yeah. ‘s been here longer than we have, i reckon.” his voice came out raspy. he cleared his throat.

louis stood against the pole, staring at harry with questions in his eyes. his lips were twitching up into an amused smile, the smile that made harry fall for him in the first place.

“haz,” he whispered softly, his eyes fondly looking at the flower in harry’s hand. “haz, i’m sorry.”

harry froze, let whatever was left of the flower fall from his hand. louis shouldn’t be saying sorry.

“you’re right,” he continued. harry wanted to say that louis had no idea, had nothing to be sorry for. harry wanted louis to scream at him. harry wanted louis to rip his heart out and light it on fire. wanted to yell that he was wrong, he was wrong, he was wrong. that he didn’t deserve louis (who had been patient and kind and understanding). but harry wasn’t sure that he’d be able to speak against the lump in his throat. didn’t trust his voice not to crack. so louis continued, “it’s not fair for me pretend you don’t exist, haz.” his eyes were sparkling, mouth betraying him as his lips quirked up into a smile that said ‘possibilities’. “they don’t matter to me. you matter, haz. you matter so much, i think you’re the only person who ever has really,” he said, looking down now, like he was nervous. louis was never nervous, not like this. and harry couldn’t think about the ways in which he didn’t deserve this side of louis even if it was what he had been desperately looking for for ages.

“louis,—” harry began, voice scratchy as he tried not to give over to the urge to let himself cry and fall to the ground.

“i love you, harry,” louis said, looking back up. his words were rushed like he couldn’t get them out fast enough. harry had never in his life seen louis shy but under the moonlight spilling over his shoulders that night, louis looked the most vulnerable ever had. “i’m in love with you, harry,” he said again, stronger, louder like he was proud of it.

and harry felt his mouth go dry. his throat constricted as tears pricked his eyes and he was not going to cry. he was not going to let louis see him like this. he held his breath, trying to get it even, and it must have been less than five seconds of silence but between them, it felt like everything had melted away. that the music and the stars blurred into a void and there was only louis and harry and their sorry hearts.

“lou,” harry finally said. “lou, i’m sorry.”

and he looked up in time to see louis’ hopeful face crumple. it wasn’t outward, louis’ face never betrayed him but in his eyes, harry could see louis’ universe falling apart slowly.

“lou, i love you,” harry said, quickly, helplessly, trying to reassure him. but louis shook his head, like he didn’t want harry doing him favors for his heart. “lou, i promise you. i am in love with you. i’m in so stupidly unfathomably deep.”

louis looked up to meet his eyes again, biting his lips skeptically. “but?” he asked.

“i’m sorry,” harry whispered, this time, helpless. “i, fuck, i fucked up.” harry rushed out. “i love you so much but i don’t know what happened. i fucked up, lou.”

“what did you do, haz?” louis’ voice shook, threatened to crack, as he looked at harry, betrayal already pooling in his eyes like he was bracing himself for what would come next. the silence grew as harry tried to figure out how to tell him, what to tell him.

“i slept with nick,” harry settled for, voice small. “it was at the shoot and i couldn’t get you out of my mind and, and,” harry scrambled for excuses helplessly, his voice breaking as he let them out. “you weren’t answering me, lou! i called you and i called you and i texted and you just wouldn’t talk to me,” harry cried, gasping for breath between the words. “i needed you to talk to me. fuck, i needed you. i’ve been needing you and you keep putting me off like i’m bad timing, lou!” his hands came up to his eyes to wipe away the tears while he let out helpless whimpers, letting himself cry properly, then.

louis was quiet. he was good at composure and keeping up appearances and not letting anyone see him hurt but harry could still see the tears welling up in his eyes. harry let out a strangled sigh, “i’m sorry, lou. it meant nothing to me. i shouldn’t have, but i have no idea how to fix it and i love you so much, you know that. i’m just,” harry broke off, helpless again. he had no idea how words would fix this. would fix the one good thing to walk into his life. “i’m—fuck, lou.”

he looked at his boyfriend staring back at him. they were breathing together, shallow heavy pants as they took each other in.

louis didn’t break eye contact as he walked towards harry. didn’t break eye contact as he reached down to press a chaste peck against harry’s lips, pulling away as harry chased him for more. slipping out of harry’s grasp as he tried to hold on to any part of louis that he could come in contact with. he could feel louis’ cheeks wet against his but that was the only evidence harry had that their interaction was real, had happened. he turned and watched louis walk away and disappear into the house, hunched over with his arms around himself as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

the world refocused around him, but harry’s senses didn’t.

—————

zayn found comfort in the stars. he was on the terrace of niall’s house, lying down on his back. the cement felt cool against him as he looked up into the speckled darkness. he had a cigarette in one hand, taking occasional drags from it, his mind was going everywhere and nowhere all at once. zayn felt too big for his body, too big for what he was feeling like his wiry frame couldn’t contain everything that was swimming in his mind. he pressed his eyes closed almost painfully and took a long drag from the cigarette; let the smoke burn into him. his thoughts raced even when he tried the trick his dad had taught him, counting the stars to slow things down. he opened his eyes, slowly, and started again.

—twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. he took another drag of his cigarette when he heard the soft thud of footsteps approaching.

“zayn,” he heard liam say. his voice was a whisper, strained up as if he were asking a question; as if he didn’t feel like he had a right to say zayn’s name.

zayn exhaled slowly, relief coursing through him slow, before turning his head and meeting liam’s eye. but when he met those chestnut irises, eyebrows creased in worry, his breath caught in his throat. anxiety, fear, something rushed through him as he remembered the last night he had seen his best friend. but, as he held the other boy’s gaze, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed or ashamed of what he let happen. in that moment liam was home. home, like he had been for the last god knows how many years of zayn’s life. zayn’s lips curved into a lazy smile as he drawled out, “leeyum.”

liam’s worried expression smoothed as he took zayn in. his lips quirked slightly at the sight of him.

“how come every time i’ve seen you recently, you’re always getting wasted?” he asked, playful, slipping into the comfortable banter he hadn’t heard in so, so long.

zayn snorted, turning back to the stars. he didn’t want to talk about liam and him and what they might or might not be. he let the silence settle around him as he measured his next words.

“how come,” zayn started, “your parents always screw you up?”

zayn turned his head towards liam again, sitting up on his elbows this time. he cocked his head to his side, motioning for the other boy to sit down next to him. liam walked over slowly.

“i think they’re just trying their best to get by.”

he sat down, pressing his shoulders against zayn’s.

they sat in silence looking up at the spotted constellations. when they were younger, they’d point out their favorites, playing connect the dots with their index fingers, one eye cringed shut as they tried to follow each other’s paths.

“my mother’s having an affair,” zayn said, breath rushing out of his body. the confession made him feel both weightless and impossibly heavy at the same time. the air was still for a moment but liam’s arms went around him gently, like a reflex, and, this time, zayn didn’t shy away like he might have before; afraid of ruining their balance, this time.

“fuck.”

“yeah.”

“i’m sorry zee,” liam said running his hands down zayn’s arms. zayn relaxed into him, curling into his side, his cigarette forgotten and crushed on the cemented ground.

“’s not your fault,” zayn said, voice finally cracking as his body started shaking with the weight of the words.

he cried for a long time. liam being the steady anchor as he let zayn spill his sorrows into his arms. there was no pressure to talk about it, none of the bullshit “it’s not your fault,” or “it’ll be okay,” that would have zayn seething. there was just liam’s arms running down his sides. and they felt safe, felt like acceptance. like comfort because zayn didn’t feel like he had to try to be anything, not this fucking ‘bad boy’ persona he’d adopted, not the calm, cool, and collected, “chill guy” everyone saw him to be. not around liam. because liam was open arms and understanding smiles. and he didn’t look at zayn like he was stereotype, didn’t look at him like he expected zayn to be anything. so zayn curled into his arms and let himself fall apart, let himself be.

when he calmed down, zayn turned to look at liam, one hand wiping away the tears streaking his cheeks.

“i’m sorry,” zayn said to him, letting one of his hands fist weakly in liam’s shirt.

“for what?” liam asked.

“for being an absolute wanker. for not picking up your calls.” zayn huffed out a breath and turned his face into liam’s shoulder, suddenly shy like he hadn’t spent the last few minutes crying in his arms.

“’s okay. we don’t have to talk about it.” liam’s hands pressed soothing circles on to zayn’s back and gave him the courage to continue, to ride this out. because, even if liam didn’t want zayn like zayn wanted liam, it would be okay.

“i just don’t want you to hate me and leave.” zayn mumbled.

“why would i hate you and leave?”

“you were drunk and people do stuff they wouldn’t when they’re drunk and it’s okay if it didn’t mean anything to you, li.” zayn said, finally meeting his eyes.

“zayn,” liam cupped zayn’s face with his hand, brushing his cheekbone as he did.

“it’s okay. really. i can just be friends,” zayn’s eyes shifted down again.

“zayn, i knew what i was doing,” liam said, steady. when zayn wouldn’t look up, liam continued, “god i’ve been head over heels for you for ages, i knew. i just,” his voice faltered, searching for the right words, “i just didn’t know if it was what you wanted.”

“what?” because zayn was sure he hadn’t been exactly secretive about how he felt.

“i’m not the one who left in the morning,” liam pointed out. and that was true, zayn had freaked out that night.

“oh,” zayn said.

“yeah.”

zayn leaned in further into liam, feeling their heartbeats pulse along their skin. a lazy spring breeze washed over them as they both watched the sky.

after a few moments, zayn straightened a bit in liam’s arms, turning to face him. he let out a breath, calming the thrum in his veins as he tried not to waver under liam’s impossibly soft eyes. his smile gave away his words but he didn’t care because he was tired of pretending to be things he wasn’t.

“i like you,” he said, grinning wider as the words left his mouth. “but just a bit, you know.”

liam laughed at zayn’s confession—not cold heartedly but with affection. he leaned in, his forehead pressing against zayn’s, their lips lightly pressing.

“i like you, too.” he breathed against zayn’s smile. “more than a bit, you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> comment if you'd like! i'll probably love you forever and everythinggggg xx  
> thanks so much for reading!


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